


dark around me

by sinequanon



Series: telling tales [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multi, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9081463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinequanon/pseuds/sinequanon
Summary: Stiles and the werewolves of Miss Blake's home worried that they might never escape, until one ball changed everything.A Cinderella AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in a series of stories inspired by fairytales and folktales, although this story was written months before I ever decided to do a series. I'm not sure what inspired me to write it because Cinderella isn't one of my favorites, but it just flowed out of me over the course of a few hours one day, so here it is.
> 
> This was only lightly edited, so if you find any glaring errors, please let me know.

The only clear memory Stiles had of his parents involved the fireworks at the castle when Stiles was six-years-old. Rather than fight the crush of people outside the castle courtyard, the Stilinskis had taken to the water, watching the display from their boat only a few miles from Hale Castle. Stiles remembered being amazed that the stars still twinkled even after the fireworks themselves were done. His mother told him that the stars were angels looking out for people below, and that they always shined because their work was never done.

Stiles couldn't see the stars from Miss Blake’s home. But then again, he had lost faith in the angels fourteen years ago, when his house (and everyone in it) burned to the ground. Alone and scared, he had wandered the city until Jennifer Blake had found him and taken him in. Too young to be useful and too old to be adopted, Miss Blake had taken her payment for his room and board in magic.

At first, things weren't too bad. Miss Blake gave him food, and clothes, and a pretty silver bracelet that glistened in the sun. And his magic was strong for a boy his age--his mother had said so--and so why wouldn't he share it with someone who needed it? Unfortunately, Miss Blake was not as good as Stiles at sharing, and sometimes she took so much magic from him that his head hurt. Then, one night when Stiles was talking about his parents and how he missed them, Miss Blake got angry and broke his arm.

Stiles might have been little, but he still knew it was wrong to hurt other people. When he told Miss Blake this, she “accidentally” spilled boiling water on him. He stayed quiet for a long time after that.

It didn't take long after the accidents had started for Stiles to think that perhaps it would have been better for him to have died with his parents. Still, he took care of the younger boys that came to Miss Blake's home, and worked hard to make them attractive to potential parents that visited, looking for someone to love. Many of the youngest passed through quickly, and he was grateful that they, at least, had escaped his guardian’s wrath.

Stiles was eight when Liam arrived in Miss Blake's home, a sad and dirty toddler with nowhere else to go. Stiles could tell immediately that there was something different about Liam, but it wasn't until the boy destroyed his bath toy with a claw two weeks into his stay that Stiles realized that he was dealing with a werewolf.

Stiles read everything in Miss Blake's rather limited library about werewolves, and set out to give little Liam the best pack that he could with just the two of them. Stiles knew that he was a poor replacement for an actual werewolf, but Liam didn't seem to mind, and latched onto Stiles with surprising ferocity for such a small person.

Two years after Liam came to the home, Brett arrived. He was the same age as Liam, and a werewolf as well, and the two boys settled into a fast friendship. Brett was wary of Stiles at first, but Stiles's utter protectiveness all of the boys at the home soon won him over, and the pack grew by one.

The problem with their pack of three, of course, was that it was difficult to hide the bruises and sprains that Jennifer inflicted from his friends. The dizziness and exhaustion that came from draining his magic was more easily passed off as simply working too hard, though he knew that the other boys were suspicious of the time he spent upstairs.

One night, when Stiles was fourteen, Miss Blake took too much magic from him, and he became so dizzy he fell down the stairs. Liam found him the next morning, feverishly shaking on the floor, two ribs broken. By the time Stiles woke up two days later, Liam and Brett had seen all of the marks that Miss Blake had made on their friend’s body, and vowed to protect him as best they could from the evil witch.

When Stiles was sixteen, Jennifer brought home two new werewolves, Ethan and Aiden. The boys, who were barely old enough for kindergarten, cried for their parents for days, and refused to let go of one another in her presence. Stiles didn't understand Jennifer’s obsession with werewolves, but he suspected that the twins had been stolen from their family.

There was no one to listen to him, though--a boy held captive for a decade by a wicked witch. Even if he escaped, he had no idea how the world worked. Brett had told him what little he could from living on the streets, but Stiles needed a way to save all of the boys, not just himself.

Jennifer had all but given up the pretext of running an orphanage after the twins arrived, and had sent everyone who was not a werewolf (or Stiles) to other homes in the area in the following months. For the next two years, Stiles worked to protect the other boys as if they were his own brothers, despite their worried objections.

That was why, when Stiles turned eighteen, he didn't leave Miss Blake's Home for Boys, no matter how much he wanted to run away and never look back. His bones ached and his head swam every time Jennifer touched him, but it was a small price to pay to save the werewolves under his care. There was no way that Stiles would leave Liam, Brett, Ethan, and Aiden behind. When Stiles had told Jennifer that he would not leave without the others, she had carelessly tossed him against the wall and given him a concussion. He woke up buried beneath a pile of blankets, Ethan and Aiden pressed to his sides.

The abuse escalated to the point that Brett snuck out to find medicine for the lashes on their alpha’s back. Stiles spent more and more time asleep because of injuries or drainings, and the wolves knew that something had to be done.

It was during one of Brett’s secret supply runs that Dr. Deaton, the man that gave Brett the medicine, told him about Princess Cora’s ball.

“I have known Cora all of her life,” he told Brett fondly. “Everyone is hopeful that she'll find at least one match at the ball.” He wrapped up two tinctures and a poultice for the wolf to take with him. “All unattached people over the age of eighteen are invited to attend, you know.”

“I'm not eighteen, but thank you for the invitation.”

“A boy like yourself could surely find work in the castle,” Deaton pointed out. After all, the royal family was mostly werewolves. It was strange to have a lone wolf such as Brett in the town, and the druid told him as much.

Rather than be relieved by the offer, however, the young werewolf took offense.

“I have other responsibilities,” he said shortly. “I won't abandon my family.”

Deaton frowned at the boy, but said nothing more. As soon as the ball was finished, however, the man resolved to find out more about this wolf’s elusive “family”.

<> <>

Brett was relieved to see Stiles awake when he got home--the mage had been disoriented by Miss Blake's last spell, and the wolves had all been worried that he would fall and hurt himself even more before he recovered. The older boy was still in bed, with Aiden hovering beside him, but he looked well-rested. Someone must have surreptitiously drained his pain, then.

“There's a ball at the castle in three days and I think you should go,” he blurted as soon as they noticed him. Brett expected many possible reactions to his statement, but not blank looks and silence.

Stiles opened his mouth, frowned, and shut his mouth again. He exchanged a confused look with Liam, who shrugged, and finally asked, “Did you fall and hurt yourself? Are you okay?”

“What? I'm fine. What are you talking about?”

“Why would I want to go to the castle?” Stiles asked, genuinely confused.

Brett rolled his eyes; his alpha was so clueless sometimes. “Stiles, you're incredibly powerful, or at least you would be if it weren't for your bracelet.” Everyone ignored Stiles's snort of disbelief. They could practically taste the magic, even if Stiles couldn't. His power, however, was a topic that Stiles was notoriously stubborn about; as in, he was convinced he didn't have much, despite all evidence to the contrary. “You could find someone at the castle to teach you to use your magic so that Miss Blake couldn't steal it anymore.”

“Even if that's true,” the older boy huffed, “I can't leave any of you. I _don't want_ to leave any of you.”

“Deaton was telling me that most of the royal family are wolves, so maybe we could find work there as well? I know that you’ve stayed for us, and we appreciate it more than you will ever know, but eventually Miss Blake is going to kill you.” All of the wolves were touching their alpha at this point--Liam holding his hand, Brett with a hand around an ankle, the twins stretched out against him--and were watching carefully for Stiles's reaction.

“You have to let us save you,” Liam added.

“Please,” begged the twins.

“This may be our chance to escape...” Brett said, knowing that Stiles would take him more seriously if there was a threat to all of them rather than just himself.

“...And all I have to do is go to a dance,” Stiles finished. He looked at the hopeful faces of his packmates and sighed. “Give me the details.”

<> <>

As it turned out, going to a ball was a rather laborious affair, and one that the boys had absolutely no understanding of how to accomplish, let alone in three days time.

The first day was for planning. Stiles thought that maybe once when he was little, his parents had thrown a ball, but he only had vague recollections of bright colors and soothing music, so nothing helpful there.

Liam and the twins were all too young to remember their lives before the home, Brett had no experience, and Stiles had read the entirety of Jennifer’s library years ago and knew that it offered no information on the subject.

On the second day, Brett snuck out to try and speak to Deaton, but the other man had already left for the castle.

The day of the ball, nothing had been accomplished, and all of the wolves were frustrated. Going to the ball suddenly seemed like an impossible goal, even for someone as deserving as Stiles.

Stiles would do anything for his pack, but he had no clothes, no transportation, and nothing to recommend him to anyone in the castle, not to mention that it would be almost impossible to sneak out without Jennifer catching him.

Maybe he could just distract her long enough for the other boys to run away?

“Honestly, Stiles, that sounds like a horrible idea,” a feminine voice said from behind him.

The boy jumped, and jerked around so fast that he nearly fell off the roof. “Who are you?”

The woman, a fierce-looking redhead with kind eyes, took a seat next to him and patted his thigh. “For lack of a better term, I'm your fairy godmother.”

“I have a fairy godmother?” he asked dubiously.

“We help people in impossible situations make their dreams come true,” she stated. “I’m here to send you to the ball.”

Stiles thought about all of the times over the years when he really could have used a fairy godmother, and not one of them involved dressing up and dancing. Still, she didn't have to be helping him at all, so he decided not to mention that part. “What do I need to do?”

“You,” she smirked, “just let me do my magic.”

<> <>

No matter how many times the boys or Lydia told him that he looked handsome, Stiles felt like an idiot. No matter how attractive he might look just standing there, the suit that he was wearing made him feel like he was pretending to be something he wasn't, a fact that everyone would figure out as soon as he opened his mouth. He couldn't stop fidgeting as Lydia flitted around him, and only a knowing look from Liam kept Stiles from batting the fairy’s hands away.

She stepped back once she was finally satisfied and gave him some last-minute instructions.

“Now, this spell will be active from the moment you step out this door until you return. It will send you to the castle and it will bring you back home again at midnight. Everything you do in between those times is your business.” She laughed at his offended look and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You're going to be great. Trust me.”

<> <>

The ballroom in Hale castle was everything that Stiles had imagined it would be. Now that he was there, though, he wasn't sure what to do. Lords and ladies milled about, chatting among themselves, but most of the attendees were common folk who felt out of place in such a large and elaborate room.

Lydia had assured him that he could dance, but Stiles wasn't brave enough to put the magic to the test, and most people were only here to see if they were compatible with Princess Cora, anyway. They would eat the food and take in the ambiance, but the experience would be little more than a fond story told at future family gatherings.

He, however, was supposed to find someone that could help his pack escape from Jennifer, though Lydia had been frustratingly vague on that front. What was he supposed to do, just go and start talking to people at random? Would he be forced to awkwardly interact with the aristocracy, or could he find their salvation with a baker’s daughter or a blacksmith’s son? He hadn't spoken to anyone outside of the home in years--what could he say to them? To anyone, really? Actually, the more he thought about it, this “send Stiles to the ball” plan was absolutely horrible.

He was going to have to go with his idea to distract Jennifer after all.

Feeling a bit lightheaded, Stiles pushed through the crush of people until he found a dark corner, sank to the floor with a sigh, and closed his eyes.

“Sometimes, it helps to put your head between your knees,” a voice said next to him.

In any other situation, Stiles would have been startled. Now, he simply gave his corner neighbor--a curly-haired blond boy--a baleful look.

“First time at a ball? They can feel pretty claustrophobic if you aren't used to them.”

Stiles fought to keep the grimace off of his face. “Well, I haven't really left my house in fourteen years, so I'm a little out of practice,” he said blandly.

Thankfully, the other boy took his words as a joke. “I understand.” The blonde grinned. “Ever since the Hales adopted me, I feel like I have eyes watching me everywhere. My name’s Isaac.”

“Stiles,” he answered, offering a hand. “If you're a part of the royal family, you probably do always have eyes on you. Speaking of which, am I supposed to be bowing at you right now or something?”

“Nah.” Isaac shrugged. “So, I can give you some advice about Cora, if you want.”

“Thanks, but I don't think I'm interested. A fairy told me that I had to come, so I did, but I don't think it has anything to do with the princess.”

“Really?” Isaac asked, eyes bright with interest. “A fairy sent you here? If I can help, let me know.”

<> <>

Stiles wasn't sure how long he’d stayed in his dark corner after Isaac had left, but somehow the ballroom was even more crowded when he emerged from his hiding spot. He had four hours until midnight, and he needed to actually talk to people. That wasn't going to happen with him staying on the sidelines.

After pointless and mind-numbingly boring conversation with a barber, someone who fancied himself an artist, a sweet pair of gardener’s daughters, and a self-absorbed lord, the “distract Jennifer” plan was looking pretty appealing.

He had a feeling that Lydia would be none too pleased if he gave up with two hours left, but…

He needed a break, first. So badly.

So many people were attending the ball that the crowds had spilled beyond the ballroom itself and into the hallway where Stiles went to try and escape the mob. The doors on all of the other rooms were closed, probably to keep people out, but Stiles didn't care. He chose a set of doors at random and slipped inside.

Stiles gasped. It was a library, filled with hundreds--if not thousands--of books.

He was drawn, almost hypnotically, around the whole room, fingertips longingly brushing against tomes in various sizes and languages. The hours he could spend in a place like this--it almost made him want to seek out Princess Cora after all.

He didn't dare pick up a book, knowing how easily he could get lost in such things, and instead, let out a sigh.

“Well, you're certainly pretty enough for Cora, but she's not generally interested in the intellectual types,” a deep voice said from behind him, and Stiles whirled around to face the speaker.

“Now, _we_ ,” a second voice said, “love stimulating conversation, don't we Peter?”

Tucked in the corner of the library were two of the most breathtakingly beautiful men that Stiles had ever seen. Not that he had seen many before tonight, but still. Both were fair and blue-eyed, though the first had darker hair and the second looked deceptively slender, and Stiles knew that they were both likely werewolves and therefore much stronger than they seemed. Two sets of eyes flashed at him across the room (much like the twins did when they were anxious), and so what would have inspired a burst of fear in most people was much closer to strange fascination and affection in Stiles.

“Sorry,” he said, completely unrepentant, “there were just too many people. I assume you feel the same or you wouldn't be hiding in here, either.”

The second man gave a sharp smile. “Most people don't care for us,” he said easily. His eyes blatantly roamed down Stiles's body and back up again. “We tend not to play nicely with others.”

“Somehow, I'm not surprised,” Stiles said drily.

The two men exchanged looks that clearly said that they thought he was ridiculous, but Stiles was secretly thrilled. This was the best conversation he’d had all night.

“You're either very brave or very stupid to be shut in a room with people like us.”

“Those aren't necessarily mutually exclusive,” Stiles answered glibly. “What are you playing?”

There was a green board covered in squares sitting between them, with two white and two black disks set diagonally in the center.

The first man, who had been staring at him with a kind of dazed curiosity, seemingly shook himself awake and gestured to the board. “Let's make a wager. We shall teach you the game, and you shall play one game against us. If we win, you will reward us with a kiss. If you win, I shall put in a good word for you with my niece Cora.”

Stiles's eyebrows had been rising the whole time the man was speaking. He was shocked at the terms of the wager, but he burst into laughter at the mention of the princess.

Clearly, Cora was either the most beloved in her family, or hated so much that everyone wanted to get rid of her. If he had the time, Stiles might have gone around the ballroom asking about her, just to find out which tale was true. Unfortunately, he had no more time for research than he had for games, no matter how attractive his opponents.

“As tempting as the offer may be, I'm not here to kiss either of you, or Cora for that matter, so I'll have to decline.” He turned towards the door, bracing himself once more for the crowds.

“For your name, then,” the slender man said, “a game for names. Surely you can't object to that.”

It took barely a minute to learn the game, and Stiles found himself enjoying both the strategy of the game itself and the banter of the two werewolves while they played. He didn't understand everything they discussed, and caught more than one assessing glance when he didn't react to something that was obviously common knowledge, but he had a good time nonetheless.

He especially enjoyed the looks on their faces when he won the game. He only gloated for a moment before taking pity on them. “My name is Stiles. And yours?”

The first man introduced himself as Peter, and the second as his husband Deucalion. They were awfully adorable when they pouted, Stiles thought; he really could just stare at them all night.

“I need to get back to the ball,” he said finally, “but thank you for the game.”

“May we see you again?”

Stiles wanted to say yes, of course, but that wasn't the way his life worked. “I doubt it,” he said regretfully. “Goodbye.” Impulsively, he leaned in and kissed Deucalion on the cheek.

All at once, the world exploded, and Stiles knew that the man was his match, which meant that Peter was also his match, and he wanted to open his eyes, because he wasn't sure when he had closed them, but he could hear the clock chiming in the distance...

He heard someone’s sharp intake of breath and felt a hand grab his wrist…

And then he opened his eyes to Brett’s shocked face.

<> <>

Liam wasn't sure what he expected to happen just after midnight, but the sight of Stiles shaking uncontrollably in Brett's arms wasn't it. Lydia was nowhere to be found, so there was no way to know if this was a normal reaction to the spell, or something worse. Miss Blake would ask questions if Stiles was sick, and she would not be pleased with a lack of explanation for how he got that way.

“Where's his bracelet?” Ethan asked suddenly, shaking Liam from his thoughts. And now that Liam noticed it, the scent of magic was even stronger now, practically a living thing in the room with them.

They could all feel it, like a storm on the wind, but none of them knew how to fix it. There was no telling where the bracelet had gone and no way to get a new one, so the most any of them could do was hold Stiles and try to comfort him as he struggled through whatever was happening.

Miraculously, Miss Blake didn't come home that day or the next, likely out of town for some business or other. When she did return, however, she would undoubtedly feel the swell of magic and who knew what would then happen to Stiles?

Huddled on the bed together, the wolves planned.

<> <>

While the pack of boys in Miss Blake's home were planning their escape, another plan was coming together at the castle.

The sight of their matchmate literally vanishing before their eyes was something that neither Peter or Deucalion ever wanted to see again. It was small comfort that Duke had managed to grab the boy’s bracelet, otherwise there would have been no way to track him, and they would have been forced to go house by house in the hopes of finding him.

Over breakfast the next morning, the family had been thrilled to learn that the two had found their third match, and Queen Talia had vowed to do everything she could to find the young man.

Deaton had asked to see the bracelet, and, after close scrutiny, his face turned into a scowl. “You say you pulled this off accidentally, he did not give this to you, correct?”

Around the table, heads perked up. Deaton never looked anything other than perfectly pleasant, so this was something important.

“Did he smell of magic?” Deaton asked the men.

“He smelled...heady,” Peter replied sincerely. “Like you could drown in it, and be grateful for the privilege.”

Duke nodded. “He is obviously intelligent, but also strangely ignorant of certain things.”

“Maybe he's been locked in a tower all his life and just came out for the ball,” Laura offered cheekily.

Isaac dropped his spoon, and the table froze. His eyes were wide as he looked at his adoptive uncles. “Was his name Stiles?”

“You met him?” Talia asked curiously. It was a well-known fact that Isaac hovered around the fringes at any large gathering to avoid being boxed in.

Isaac shrugged. “He didn't like the crowd, either. He mentioned something about not having left the house in fourteen years, but I thought he was joking. I thought he was joking,” he repeated slowly.

“This is a binding,” Deaton said, gesturing toward the bracelet and directing attention back to him. “It's sometimes used to help young mages control their powers. If what Isaac says is true, however, I suspect that this binding was used against your young man, to control him.”

“What does that mean?” Peter asked, sharing a concerned look with his husband.

“If you could smell magic, even though the binding, it means he is quite powerful.” The druid turned to Talia. “He's going to need both physical and magical assistance immediately.”

<> <>

By the third day after the ball, Stiles had mostly stopped shaking and the boys had some semblance of a plan. Mostly, it involved Brett, Ethan, and Liam jumping her when she tried to take Stiles upstairs, while Aiden looked out for the mage, but what else could be done? They didn't have a lot of options.

It didn't matter, anyway.

The witch had no sooner come home than the basement door flew open with a bang that was surely heard down the street, and she was down the stairs in the blink of an eye.

“You know,” she said, eyeing the wolves as they surrounded Stiles, “you should be grateful that I have taken you in. No one else would have taken in orphaned werewolves. I saved you.” She turned to Stiles. “And you, you would be dead if it wasn't for me. You owe me,” she spat.

“Not anymore.”

Jennifer gave a quick brush of her hand and the wolves slid across the floor like it was covered in ice and hit the walls with bone-crunching thuds. “I should thank you,” she hissed at Stiles, stalking forward to grab his arm, “for all the power that you've given me. But really, we wouldn't want you to waste it, would we?”

Then she moved her hands to his head, and he was screaming.

It felt like it went on forever: pain followed by agony followed by despair. Stiles thought of Liam and Brett and the twins, he thought of Peter and Deucalion, and he thought of fireworks, and how even though fireworks were flashier and more colorful, the stars kept shining despite them.

He could feel the shift when the hands fell away and Jennifer started screaming in his place. She screamed and writhed, and her skin started to glow like she had swallowed the sun, and she kept screaming and the smell of burning flesh hit his nose and then--

It was over.

The five of them stared at the woman who had ruled their lives for so long and felt nothing but exhaustion.

“What are we going to do with the body?” Liam asked tiredly. They could leave it long enough to nap, right?

“We should chop her head off, just in case,” Brett offered.

“We should burn her to ashes,” the twins suggested, giving the body a few experimental kicks.

“I was thinking that we should chop her into pieces and scatter them around the world, so she can't come back together,” Stiles said.

“Can she do that?” Aiden asked, eyeing the body warily. Ethan stopped kicking and took a step back.

Stiles shrugged. Probably not, but he’d rather not risk it.

“What are we going to do now?” Ethan asked, wandering over to hug Stiles.

That was the question, wasn't it, because none of them wanted to stay in this horrible house but where else could they go? The mage’s heart dropped. Surely Lydia was shaking her head at him somewhere.

“I'm sorry that I didn't find anyone to save us,” he said sadly.

“I think you did all right for yourselves.” Lydia remarked lightly from where she had appeared on the stairs. “You got rid of Jennifer, and you even managed to match with a pair of handsome aristocrats. Who are on their way to rescue you, by the way. You’re welcome.”

Liam whirled on Stiles as soon as Lydia had vanished. “You didn't tell us you met anyone,” he said accusingly.

“We had bigger issues to deal with!”

“Maybe they'll know what to do with the body?” Ethan asked hopefully.

Brett snickered.

<> <>

Lydia must have pretty much given the rescue party directions to the house, because they burst in not ten minutes after she had left.

Stiles had to admit, it was quite the sight, seeing so many wolfed out werewolves burst through the doors, only to stop short when they realized that the battle had already been won.

It was probably a good thing, too, because nearly a dozen werewolves crowded on a set of rickety stairs? Not as intimidating as one would expect. He was actually kind of worried that the stairs might collapse under all that weight.

“You should probably come down,” Stiles called to the frozen wolves on the stairs. “Jennifer didn't spend a lot of time on home maintenance.”

The party filtered down, taking in the dank basement and its meager contents, before focusing on the boys hovering uncertainty over the witch’s body.

“We came to rescue you,” Peter said seriously, edging closer to Stiles. “Though it seems the assistance was unneeded.” Duke crept forward as well, doing his best not to spook the younger wolves.

The younger wolves weren't fooled for a second. “You're not taking our Stiles without us,” Aiden growled, his brother nodding in agreement. “Just ‘cause you think he's pretty doesn't mean we're just going to let you have him,” he added.

Neither prince paid any attention to the noises of surprise from behind them. Of course their match, who had sought them out with the blessings of a fairy, was the alpha of this fledgling pack.

Deucalion knelt down to look the twins in the eyes. “We would not dream of taking your alpha away from you.”

“I didn’t have much to go on,” the mage interrupted, “so I'm sure that there's lots they don't know.” The objections were immediate, as all of the boys started talking loudly about how Stiles had taken care of them and was the best alpha and how none of them were going to leave him, princes or no.

“We would like this chance,” Duke added, still kneeling, “to love him as much as you do. Would that be all right?”

After glancing at Stiles, the boys nodded. It didn't stop them from taking Stiles's hands as soon as the older man moved, however.

“Now, besides the obvious,” Peter soothed, stepping disdainfully over the body, “Is there anything else you boys need?”

Brett and Liam exchanged looks. “We want to go to school,” Liam requested.

“I want to meet a knight,” Ethan said.

Aiden’s face scrunched up thoughtfully. “I want to learn how to cook," he announced.

The princes turned to Stiles. “I want to learn everything,” he breathed.

<> <>

“I have to say, this place is a lot less intimidating when there's nobody in it,” Stiles commented, as Peter pulled him into the ballroom where Deucalion was waiting for them.

The months following Jennifer's death were difficult for all of them, but Stiles and the others were slowly adjusting to life in the palace. Stiles's clever matchmates had patiently learned when to push and when to retreat, and took great pride in exposing Stiles to new things. He thrived under the careful attention, and their courtship was one that would be spoken of long after the trio had passed.

The rest of the pack blossomed as well: Brett was apprenticed to Deaton (and matched to Cora the minute he turned eighteen), Liam found a mentor in Peter’s nephew Derek, and the twins were constantly running amok with Peter's youngest niece, Malia.

It was more than any of them thought to hope for but deserved nonetheless, and Lydia popped in every once in awhile to remind them of that fact.

But for now, the three men stood in the ballroom because Stiles needed to learn how to dance before the wedding. Once Stiles was decent enough at waltzing to take a turn on the floor, Peter relinquished him to Deucalion with a searing kiss and he was swept away in Duke’s arms. Stiles glanced up, and for the first time noticed the mural that stretched the length of the ballroom. He swallowed the lump in his throat and gratefully clung to his werewolf a little tighter.

There were angels painted on the ceiling.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the poem "The night is darkening round me" by Emily Bronte.
> 
> The night is darkening round me,  
> The wild winds coldly blow;  
> But a tyrant spell has bound me,  
> And I cannot, cannot go. 
> 
> Next week: the start of a new chaptered crossover fic, and a TW/Avengers one-shot in "echoes". The next fic in this series will be posted in February. See you then, and as always, thanks for reading!


End file.
